“Wall,” exclaimed Tom Marlin, who had been made acquainted by the boys with what had occurred in the alder swamp, “if words could drown we’d be dead by this time, all right.”
“Somehow, though, I think that that man Anderson is a good fellow to watch out for,” replied Ned. “He has the look in his eye of a man who might become insane from brooding upon his fancied wrongs.”
“Hullo, there is the Lieutenant and Midshipman Stark, and there’s good old Stanley, too,” cried Herc suddenly, pointing to a group in front of the hotel. Hastening their steps, our party was soon respectfully saluting Lieutenant Parry and his aide.
The next morning work was resumed at the yard, with Andy Bowler, a capable workman, in Anderson’s place as superintendent. Sim was made his assistant, and work was rapidly rushed ahead. Sim proved himself, in spite of his tender years, to be a genius with machinery, and he and the Dreadnought Boys became firm friends. All this time the naval party was acquainting itself thoroughly with the principles of the Lockyer engine so that when the time came they could take sole charge of the craft and test her in every way.
All this time nothing further had been heard of Gradbarr, who, as we have seen, had failed in his first attempt to damage the submarine. He did not even appear to collect his money. Mr. Lockyer, with an idea of having him arrested, notified the police, but they could find no trace of him. Anderson was seen about the village and appeared to have plenty of money, although the source of his income was more or less of a mystery. But things were so busy at the yard that the boys or any one connected with the plant had little time to waste on speculations concerning the rascally pair. Work in the craft was rushed day and night. Rapidly it narrowed down to mere details.
One bright afternoon Mr. Lockyer seized up a megaphone and by its agency announced throughout the yard that the work was practically finished. What a cheer went up as the men gathered about him! Another shout arose when it was given out that each man that evening would find a ten-dollar bill awaiting him at the office.
“When is the launching set for, sir?” inquired Ned of Mr. Lockyer that evening.
“There will be no formal launching, with invited guests, a brass band, and all that; but we’ll run her off the ways to-morrow, if it’s a good day,” was the reply. “I can hardly believe that the crucial test is so near. I wonder, will she make good?”
“You’ll win out, sir, never fear,” Ned assured the inventor, who was beginning to show the effect of his long strain.